Crawling
by AliZoe
Summary: Private Benjamin Quarensen, a Ghost of the Terran fleet, experiences unknown symptoms of what the Medical staff calls Schizophrenia. The overwhelming drive to end the torture proceeds to taint his purpose and loyalties as he deals with a new addiction to the enemy of them all. Taken place after the events of StarCraft Brood Wars.
1. Chapter 0-Prologue

**WRITER'S NOTE: This story will be considered an AU due to the fact that I have not played the original StarCraft or Brood Wars games in roughly ten years and counting. I will include OCs and ideas regarding StarCraft Units that I find both creative and relevant to the plot. I have never played any StarCraft game beyond those two so any and all plot twists, information, or StarCraft Units, Characters, or Personnel will not be included in this story. Enjoy the fanfiction for what it is as a _fanfiction_! Feel free to review and donate any StarCraft info to me through PM that I may or may not choose to include as the story unfolds. Thank you! Here is Ben's story...**

Crawling

AliZoe

AliZoe (c) 2014

Prologue

The Voices

They wouldn't stop...the voices…

Inside his head, he kept hearing them whisper like a droning monologue that never made any sense. It was all gibberish that drove him insane! The different syllables and sounds blotted out any rational thought processes. The lockdown was necessary for protection...from himself...and for everyone else.

All of the finest doctors and examiners that the Terran could offer could not explain the phenomenon. Yes, he had psychic tendencies because he was a Ghost, but this was beyond those capacities. He was alone in his white cell as a product of one mistake on the battlefield against the Zerg.

As a Ghost, he was in charge of a stealth assassin of the Zerg Queen that would undoubtedly infest their struggling Command Center. With the cloak at full blast, he strutted to the Zerg's secondary base, no Overlord or Spore Colony to detect him in sight, the plan set in stone to make the kill. As always, he liked everything over-the-top. If his command was to kill, he would destroy. A nuke would do the trick. His concentration trickled to the side where a Lurker lay dormant as if it watched his every move. His armor already weaker than the average Marine, he took care to slowly stalk to the other side of the Hatchery so as not to, for some unknown reason, disclose his location. His extreme arrogance led his fixed gaze to the one looming misstep that initiated the erratic clamor. A small slip into the pool of green deviated all the priorities he had in mind.

Screeching from the sudden exposure to that memory caused an episode. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" he bashed the padded walls to no avail.

"Private Quarensen, do you need another injection?" a voice from the intercom buzzed monotonically.

"GIVE IT TO ME!" he panted, the sweat drenching his monochromatic clothing to a sticky stench. "J-just...just give it to me…make them stop…" A robotic arm pulled out from the ceiling, the needle slowly ejecting itself. Puncturing his skin, the liquid oozed into his bloodstream, instantly numbing his senses. The room blurred into a drunken gaze of white. The lights flickered off as he hit the floor. "Just...make...them...stop…" The blackness set in as he shut his bloodshot eyes.


	2. Chapter 1-State of Emergency

Crawling

AliZoe

AliZoe (c) 2014

Chapter One

State of Emergency

"State of Emergency" by Papa Roach - this song was such an inspiration for this chapter that I needed to add it to the beginning of the chapter. Papa Roach basically wrote the perfect lyrics for any StarCraft mood on the feelings felt in war.

_There's a movie playing in my head_

_Bombs falling and children crying_

_The sun rise and the sky turns red_

_Load your guns tonight_

_There's a song playing down the hall_

_All alone there's an old man dying_

_I can't feel anything at all_

_Something isn't right_

_**This**_ _**is a state of emergency**_

_**I've been running from a tragedy**_

_**There's a battle raging in my head**_

_**I don't wanna be left for dead**_

_**This is a state of emergency**_

_**Don't wanna be another casualty**_

_**There's a cemetery in my head**_

_**I don't wanna be left for dead**_

_**Left for dead**_

_There's a world standing in my way_

_Father said that I best stop trying_

_Stand down it will be ok_

_You don't have to fight_

_There's a picture hanging on the wall_

_Of a memory that I'm denying_

_Sunsets and the angels fall_

_Something isn't right_

_**This is a state of emergency**_

_**I've been running from a tragedy**_

_**There's a battle raging in my head**_

_**I don't wanna be left for dead**_

_**This is a state of emergency**_

_**Don't wanna be another casualty**_

_**There's a cemetery in my head**_

_**I don't wanna be left for dead**_

_No, don't leave me here alone_

_I don't wanna make this on my own_

_I would rather die than sell my soul_

_I would rather lie than let you go_

_There's a voice screaming in my head_

_Telling me that I best stop crying_

_Stand up it will be ok_

_Load your guns tonight_

_**This is a state of emergency**_

_**I've been running from a tragedy**_

_**There's a battle raging in my head**_

_**I don't wanna be left for dead**_

_**This is a state of emergency**_

_**Don't wanna be another casualty**_

_**There's a cemetery in my head**_

_**I don't wanna be left for dead**_

_State of emergency_

_State of emergency_

_State of emergency_

_State of emergency_

_I don't wanna be left for dead_

_Left for dead!_

_**Left for dead... **_

Ten years before the incident: the warning signs...

Twenty years since his birth had passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye. His flawlessness left his uncle, the twin of his father, envious: tall, dark, and handsome only scratched the service-cunning, witty, spontaneous, and astute to just paint the picture better. He was the spitting image of his father which made it even worse for his uncle: the fact that his own son would never add up to the supremacy of his nephew. Benjamin's superiority caused the green monster of envy to spread to the abuse of his only child. For this reason, Marty hated him.

As children, the brothers would allow their sons to play together. Their differences were obvious when Ben would be victorious at everything. Marty's tears of fury would call the parents to them as an audience. "Let him win for a change," came often the phrase that Marty despised.

"This is what the real world is like! It's better to learn now that life is difficult, and that nobody will take it easy on you because they pity you!" came the response of Ben's proud father.

"And _your _son must learn that not everything will be given to him on a silver platter!" came the rebuttal of Marty's resentful father. The rivalry between them grew at an unhealthy rate, but the pull of family unity kept them tolerant of each other.

When they were old enough to apply for the Terran army, the rivalry followed them. Just another day in Bootcamp created yawns for Cadet Benjamin Quarensen; whereas, Cadet Marty Quarensen constantly attempted to catch his breath. Admiral Johnson, a blunt man of importance who demanded perfection, attended the camp for observations; he needed to see what type of men were to join him in the near future at the Barracks. Weeding out the weaklings proved mandatory. "Your son's performance is highly effective, General Quarensen," the Admiral protruded his jaw in a confident smile.

"Thank you, sir. He gets it from his mother," General Hank Quarensen mentioned.

"Don't be modest, General. What were his results on the psionic testing?"

"Alarmingly high, sir. They haven't seen numbers like that since _her_…"

Pausing, Admiral Johnson turned his head and furled his eyebrows. "Does he know?"

"No, sir. My wife and I were going to tell him tonight."

"Well don't! That's an order, General! I don't want to lose another superior soldier to the Ghost program! They're all assassins that lack honor and dignity!"

General Quarensen struggled internally. His son deserved to know of his gifts. His heart sank with the desires to meet his son's needs that were clearly not met here, but the order was given and he had his duties to uphold.

Smugly striding up along the opposite side of the Admiral, General George Quarensen cleared his throat conspicuously. "Admiral," he nodded his head when the desired attention was given. "My son has proven himself to be outstanding, has he not?"

"Remind me which one is yours, General," the Admiral remarked in all seriousness. Taken aback, General G. Quarensen glowered as he pointed to his pathetic son who sat in the dust, out of breath.

"Get up, Marty! Come on!" Ben smiled, arrogantly. Marty gazed up at him with bitterness shoving his cousin's outstretched arm away and standing up with soreness. "You're a Quarensen, you can do better than that!"

"Shut up, Ben!" he roared in his frustration.

"What? I'm just saying-"

"How about I shut that proud mouth of yours, huh?" The tension began to build. Ben's amusement grew as he hunched over his knees and chuckled.

"You? _Really?_ Come on, Marty! You can't take me! I've got you beat at, hmm, lets see, _everything!_" Pouncing on him, Marty shoved Ben to the rocky ground. A puff of dirt flooded the air as they huffed for oxygen. Laughter abounded louder as Ben took the wimpy blows in the face.

"STOP! LAUGHING!" Marty screamed in a rage. Getting yanked off of his cousin by other Marines, the Admiral accompanied their fathers with complete revulsion on his face. Ben refused help up as he tried to milk it for important eyes to see. Slowly standing up, he tried to appear more injured than actual, so as to give Marty a bout of manliness.

"Boy! Learn to respect your superiors!" he yelled in Marty's face.

"With all do respect sir, he is _not_ my superior. We are of same rank."

Admiral Johnson's nose flared even more as he paused not inches away. Leaning to the side, he brought born teeth to his Marty's ear. "He outranks you on _so_ many levels. _Learn to respect your superiors!"_ Straightening up, he shot a smug and pompous eye at him as he continued his rebuke for all others to hear. "I _will not tolerate_ this sort of behavior among my men! _This is inexcusable!_ …!"

As the Admiral continued his self-righteous sermon, Ben's eyes dilated drastically. With blood dripping out of his mouth and nose, his ears began to ring. The sound, ear-splittingly loud, made Ben think his eardrums would explode. Hyperventilating, he roared as he cupped his ears as he fell to the dirt again. Curling up in the fetal position, he squished his eyelids tightly together. Darkness filled his mind, as a cold set into his skin. A disembodied, orotund, and honeyed voice entered his mind, _You will soon be mine..._

Shooting his eyes open, he slowly rolled onto his back as noise around him of confusion came back to his bleeding ears. His eyes, though still able to see the chaos, remained a stunned dead from the experience. His breathing became shallow as his heart rate slowed to a critical low.

"_What did you do to my son?!"_ A muffled accusation from his father towards Marty barely reached his consciousness. "Get him to the hospital!" Lifting him onto a stretcher, they raced towards the nearby recently landed Dropship. With his father already boarding, they hoisted him into the ship. Lifting off the ground, the Dropship plotted the course to the nearest facility. It was far due to the extreme distance from the boot camp. Glaring at his nephew and brother still on the ground below, his father cradled his head in his arms. "What happened to you? Marty's punches couldn't have done this to you!"

Barely breathing, Ben peered up into his father's eyes. "...I...heard...a...voice…"

Holding his breath, he pursed his lips at his son's words. Disputing inside of him, he rebelled his orders and opened his mouth. "There was no voice, son." The bewildered look on Ben's face only confirmed what he decided to explain. "Ben...your psionic levels came back resulting in the extreme highs. The only other person who had similar results was Sarah Kerrigan…"

Furling his eyebrows even further, Ben reflected on the scratches and scrapes the voice left on his mind. The whole Dropship filled with trepidation as the hospital came into view. Globs of explosive acid rained upon the hospital as it erupted in flames. The security measures of Bunkers and Missile Turrets were already neutralized as they made their descent.

"NO!" his father shrieked in horror.

Grabbing his father's arm, he questioned in desperation, "Was Mom in there?!" Weeping from him only confirmed his fears.

"Why would they attack the hospital? It doesn't make sense!" his father rambled in a confused denial. A sudden mass struck the vessel. The ship teetered until it found stability. The blow oozed with acid as the spores spread through the ship, eating away at the metal of the exterior. Getting struck again, the hit ruptured the hull as men were ejected from their seating from the pressure change and launched to their deaths. The gurney locked into place secured Ben as he watched his father get yanked from the ship.

The crash propelled him off the gurney and into open ground as the invading Zerglings and Hydralisks surrounded him. His body, bruised and broken, lay there conscious as he panicked internally, unable to move. Slithering onto his chest, a Hydralisk propped its scythes against his neck. Lathering the needled spines to spew, it paused. A darkness engulfed his being once again as the damaging voice repeated itself, _You will soon be mine…_

Slowly backing away from him, the rushing army consumed the other survivors with blood curdling screeches. The horrific scene of red and iron filled Ben's senses as he remained paralyzed by the sudden events. They left as fast as they came. Gathering his strength, he glanced towards the scarlet horizon and roared in fury until his lungs refused to growl any longer.

Arriving too late, a reinforcement Terran army oggled at the destruction. The stomping of running feet in armored suits vibrated in the ground around him. Closing his eyes, his face scrunched in wrath. "HE'S ALIVE!" hollered a Medic.

Coughing, his body went comatose. All alone, he would have his revenge.


End file.
